


Twisted Intentions

by Cupcakemolotov



Series: Dance with the Devil [31]
Category: The Vampire Diaries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Regency, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Caroline Forbes, F/F Smut, F/M, Klaroline End Game, M/F smut, Non-Klaroline Smut (referenced), Not Canon Compliant, Past-Prostitution, Possessive Klaus Mikaelson, Referenced Threesome F/F/M, Suggested Sexual Coercion, Vampire Caroline, no non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:37:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/pseuds/Cupcakemolotov
Summary: Plucked off the streets of London during the height of the Plague, Caroline sees vampirism as a gift. But all gifts come with strings, and Klaus demands utmost loyalty from his sire line.





	Twisted Intentions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accidentalrambler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalrambler/gifts).



> This is a bit of a darker take on Klaroline. Just as a follow up warning: references to sex, suggested f/f, m/f, and other smut. references to murder and maybe a smidge of sexual coercion (note: this is just a FYI, there is *no* non-con or sex w/compulsion.) reference to non-kc smut, just so you’re not surprised. 
> 
> My historical timeline is probably not 100% accurate, but I lost all my notes when I moved jobs. So we’re just going to roll with it as it is folks.

Caroline studied the thick envelope on her writing desk, the soft ivory of the paper, heavy and expensive. Unlike the other correspondence in the unsorted pile, someone had simply written her name across the front.

Her real name.

Caroline turned away from her desk, and walked to one of the windows that filled the room with sunlight. Her daylight ring sat lightly on her finger, and beneath her view scurried servants, the carefully tended grounds jewel green beneath the early morning sun. She’d purchased the Italian estate twenty years ago from a bankrupt merchant, his coffers run dry from gambling and debauchery, his favorite prostitute as expensive as she was lovely.

In the years that Caroline had been a vampire, she'd been very careful to accumulate her wealth. Most of it was tied up under assumed names, carefully bequeathed to a niece or daughter until the day arrived that she'd be able to hold the property on her own. In a society ruled by men, the proper allowances needed to be made, but Caroline pulled her strings carefully.

The cold, starving girl, who'd been plucked off the streets for a whore house after her father's debts had left them penniless, she had survived. But being a harlot had merely changed one overlord for another. Caroline’s time there as a human had been short, but informative.

Then the plague had struck, raging through the streets and gutters of London. It destroyed the lives of the rich and the poor alike, until even the Nobility had fled for their quiet estates. The smell of it, the acrid scent of death and decay, became as familiar as the fog.

It was those terrible streets she'd been found. Her maker had plucked her from the streets as easily as her father's debts had tossed her onto her back. He’d watched her with such calculating eyes, lips curled into a bloody smile, and asked her if she’d like to never go hungry again. In that moment, she'd have traded whatever services necessary to survive. Caroline had wanted to live, as poor and meaningless as her life had been.

Her maker had seemed amused by her, and she hadn't minded his condescending smile; he wasn't the first to dismiss her. In that moment, he’d given her no reason for his generosity, and Caroline hadn't cared.

It hadn’t been the promise of endless food that had appealed to her nor the curling blade of his smile. It'd been the opportunity. For the short seventeen years of her life, Caroline had suffered from the choices of others. Vampirism her choice and she'd taken hold of it with both hands.

For the first time in her life, she'd had the power of choice. Caroline became the sole decider of her life and she chose how she'd live. Just her.

The plague, then the Great Fire, had emptied the lower ranks of the city, and Caroline had capitalized on it. First a little shop here, a handfasting there. Her first husband had been an ambitious merchant, determined to invest in upcoming ventures and after his untimely death, he’d left a most generous settlement on his wife at his passing.

Compulsion was a delight, but one best used sparingly. She'd watched as older vampires were hunted when they’d grown greedy too fast, reckless in their needs. Subtlety and plans were superior to ham handed brutality.

Usually.

Caroline didn't mind getting her hands dirty and had skinned a man or two alive, to prove a point. But her tiny collection of supplicants were unaware of just had graceful she was with a knife, feeding off her honey sweet words and gold coins instead. Some lessons a girl never forgot, and she'd lived hard before vampirism had given her better tools.

It wasn't London she thrived in, but the underbelly.

But she'd had her taste of the Ton as well.

She'd spent five years as a plainly dressed governess while she’d debauched both the Marques and his very lovely wife. Those weeks in the whore house after all, had taught her many lessons. Men were easy creatures with simple needs, but a woman's tongue could be quite satisfying. A man with a wet cock would agree to almost anything if you were smart, and a marquese was led about as easily with an agile tongue as a gutter rat shown a few coins.

Her collection of baubles and pretty dresses was rather lovely. But it wasn't just a idyllic life that Caroline had wanted to sample. There were rules that governed the world, rules she’d had no way of knowing, and she’d never allow that sort of ignorance in her life.

Then her maker had sought her out.

_She'd left the bedroom of the Marchioness wearing only a robe, still drowsy from a night of sex and blood, to find him waiting for her near the stairs, no servant in sight. Impeccably dressed, his eyes glittering in the early morning candlelight, he’d arched a brow at her._

_“Enjoy yourself, love?”_

_Caroline paused to study him, not bothering to hide her surprise. “As much as one can enjoy themselves in such matters. The Marques is a bit clumsy, but he is a man. The wife, however, is quite eager and rather clever.”_

_Dimples curved along his cheeks, and he’d straightened to clasp his hands behind his back, head tilting in permission for her to continue to her quarters. “Compulsion?”_

_“For sex?” Caroline snorted as she’d moved towards the lovely suit she'd claimed as her own. “What fun would that be?”_

_A soft, considering noise as he closed the door behind him, taking in her temporary room. “I didn't imagine you as a governess, love. Seems a bit dull.”_

_Caroline picked up her favorite comb and set about taming her sex mussed hair, the banked fire providing just enough light to see by. “One of the maids observes the children in the morning, then they quietly study with one of their tutors. I did have to compel that particular requirement, but it should be a benefit to them. I rarely see them.”_

_He watched the movements of her hands with thoughtful eyes. “And what is it that you gain from the Marquise, Caroline, those afternoons you spend in his office? Not sex, if you prefer the wife.”_

_She sat her comb down, pushing her hair back. She wasn't certain how to feel about that fact that he'd clearly watched her for some time before choosing to let her know of his presence. “I didn't know that you cared so much about your creations.”_

_A hint of that bladed smile on his lips. “Do you know why I turned you, pretty Caroline?”_

_“I’d assumed you were bored.”_

_“I needed bait,” Klaus said easily, causally. “The plague was an excellent cover, but there are those who hunt our kind. I need a bit of freedom to go unobserved and unfollowed, and well, baby vampires can make such a nuisance of themselves. Of those who’ve I offered my particular salvation, only three survived the year.”_

_“How unfortunate for them,” Caroline murmured. She supposed she should be outraged, but she'd used him as neatly as he’d used her. If the price of her freedom was that others sought to kill her, well, she was easy prey no longer._

_A low laugh, and his fingers twinned in the thick fall of her hair. There was something possessive about his hold, something bitingly coveting that tightened her nipples. “Why a governess, Caroline?”_

_“I need an education,” she pointed out, scalp prickling. He reached for her comb, and then smoothed it slowly through her ends. “The nobility bore me, but they can be useful. Math, history, manners? Subjects a whore is not taught.”_

_He parted her hair, and a single fingertip slid down the curve of her nape. She shivered. “I do admire your intelligence.”_

_“We now, we can't all be easy bait,” her voice was tart, and his gaze flashed in the light, but he didn't chastise her for her impertinence. Instead, he made another low sound of amusement, and his hand curled her throat._

_“Vampirism is a gift, pretty Caroline, but I can make it a curse. Be sure you remember your promise.”_

_Her chin lifted, gaze unwavering against his in the mirror. “I remember.”_

_His smile returned, and he trailed his fingers along her collarbones. “Excellent. Now, I’m in need of you keeping your clever ears open for me.”_

_She watched him from beneath heavy lashes in the mirror, pupils dark and wide as he stroked her skin. “And what am I listening for?”_

_“I'm looking for a moonstone,” he said, sweeping his fingers along her skin, dipping low but never beneath her neckline where her nipples were visibly aroused. “And a doppelgänger.”_

_Later, when Caroline held the marchioness head between her thighs, she’d moaned through an orgasm that did little to ease the ache. And that night, lips slick with blood as she walked away from the carnage she'd left behind, she found death didn't satisfy it either._

_It'd rankled._

Caroline stepped away from her window, twisting the only ring she bothered to wear. This too, had been a gift. Her maker had given it to her in Paris. It had been one of her little excursions, a chance to travel while her death was carefully circulated where she might’ve be missed. It was a delightfully easy to shed identities in a world where a woman was only as important as her ability to bear children.

He’d smiled at her during a little party for the arts, as if he'd expected her. As if her whims would eventually cross their paths and he'd been merely waiting for her arrival. Then he'd had the gall to ask after her little empire.

_Caroline sipped at her drink, ignoring the man who droned on next to her in broken English. She’d finally perfected her French, and now nearly spoke without an accent. Another few weeks in Paris, and she was certain she'd be taken as a native._

_But the fool next to her was unaware of her truth, and she saw no point in enlightening him. Not when he’d so masterfully elevated himself to the top of her dinner menu. There was a commotion, a familiar chuckle, and then a arm slid through hers, and a clipped accent murmured lowly against her ear as she was carefully tugged forward._

_“Ah, now, this is a bit more compatible as to where I’d thought you'd find yourself. Still growing that empire of yours, love?”_

_Twisting open her fan, she glanced up at to find his amused face and gave her own cutting smile. “Empires are tedious. So much hand holding, and I can't stand incompetence.”_

_She'd replied in neat French, and he switched languages just as smoothly. “Perhaps, but now I find myself curious. If not for conquest, then why choose Paris at such a tumulus time?”_

_“Questions of succession bore me,” Caroline said with rancor. “But the growing possibilities for trade, now those I find most intriguing.”_

_There was no mockery behind his eyes as he watched her, no twisted smile that said a woman shouldn't involve herself in such matters. Her maker's attention had always been a complex thing of threat and intrigue. Today he wore curiosity, and the calculation that had first interested her all those years ago._

_And all of it packaged so prettily._

_“Yes, I've heard of your investments. A husband with ties to the Hudson Bay Company, and then most recently a percentage of the East India Company that was l bequeathed to you as well.”_

_“You're well informed for a man who's feet rarely linger,” she swished her fan, lips pursed. “More spies?”_

_A wicked smile, a glint in his gaze. “There are those willing to trade a task for the chance at the occasional favor. You thrive, sweetheart, where others wither and I find that fascinating.”_

_Her fan stirred the air, and her smile shifted dangerously with her dimples. “I'll eat them, should I find them.”_

_“Promises,” he returned, voice lowering in pitch. The flicker of carnal interest stirred her arousal, but he made no other move to touch her. His gaze dipped, lingered on her hands. “Where to next?”_

_Caroline blinked, fan stilling. “Pardon?”_

_Curiosity and a strange greed flickered across his eyes, but it was tucked away a moment later. “Surely you don't plan to linger in Paris longer than it suits your interests, and England has its charms, but it is merely a small piece of the world.”_

_She considered his words, saw no reason to lie. “I've considered further travel, but the sun does add certain complications. Colonial India, the sugar plantations of the Bahamas? Perhaps some time on the Continent? All possibilities that require consideration and careful planning.”_

_A glitter of something behind his eyes that spoke to the monster in her veins, an unreadable intensity that stroked down her spine. Arousal wasn't a new concept to her, but this fisted tightly in her belly, and the strength of it intrigued her. Her maker was lethal, both in physical danger and beauty, but the tension that shimmered between them couldn't be brushed aside as mere physical attraction._

_It infuriated her that he so easily stayed one step ahead of her when so many others were easily manipulated. She wondered if that's what he saw when he looked at her, a mere challenge of his creation. Distaste curled in her chest, and she watched him with narrowed eyes._

_Whatever he saw on her face, he merely brought her cold wrist to his mouth, smile a private, amused thing. “Do take care of yourself, Caroline. I'd be disappointed, should you die.”_

_He'd left her then, wrist still stinging from the edge of his teeth, arousal a pulse between her thighs._

_Two days later, a box was waiting for her in the solaris. There’d been no note, but when she slipped the ring onto her left hand, she'd not needed one. That morning, the pale dawn's rays had not burned._

Over the years, she'd found him in the most curious of places. A castle in Ireland. A painting class in Venice. A cabin in Russia.

But never her bed.

She'd long since dismissed the idea that he felt some sort of taboo bedding his creations. She'd followed the rumors of his exploits with amusement, admiring the way he moved the supernatural world about as if they were all his personal chess pieces. The messes he left behind were both pointed and erratic, the mercurial mood that had offered a dying girl salvation as easily a violence that destroyed villages on display.

Instead, what she'd learned suggested he was not one to care for any societies rules. There seemed to be no sin he'd not tasted, but the whiplash temper hid a calculating mind could and did leave ruin in his wake. The games he played with one particular vampire was most enlightening.

It'd taken time, to sift through the rumors and half-truths that slipped so easily from a gilded tongue. When he chose, her side was a secretive and cagey as a king. But it'd become clear that he hated Katerina Petrova, and her sire hunted no other the way he hunted her.

Caroline had been determined to discover why.

It'd had taken decades. Some secrets were only unraveled with patience, and compulsion just worked on humans. Instead she'd carefully and sweetly plucked tiny, meaningless grains of information from her fellow vampires. A name here. A date there. A barely whispered rumor.

Even vampires gave up secrets wanted if you sucked their cock just so.

But it'd been a pretty, human witch who'd given her what she'd wanted. Caroline had long since dismissed the Sun and Moon curse, had decided it was too fantastic to be real. Well, entirely real.

Nature stove for balance.

She'd never forgotten his requests in the first decade of her life. But it'd been near a century since she'd heard the word doppelganger before a witch with truly lovely nipples had slipped the same word from her tongue. Caroline had spent a week in her bed, coaxing truth and such husky cries from the her throat before she'd left the corpse cooling behind her.

It appeared that Doppelgänger was important to more than Klaus, and the witches had a secret.

She'd had no direct way to reach hsr sire. But that didn't mean she hadn’t had the means to entice him into finding her. She'd known to be careful, Klaus had already warned her once that he too was hunted, but she’d also known exactly what questions to ask and to whom, to draw attention.

It had only taken a hint of a rumor.

_She'd settled into her bath with a pleased little sigh listening to the activity of her household. Vampires didn't truly feel hot or cold, but something about wet heat still felt wonderful. A male vampire or two had gasped something similar when she'd allowed them entry into her bed, her body. Somehow she doubted their sincerity._

_Still, a scalding bath in front of a fire was one of her favorite vices._

_Her lashes lifted as a door opened, monster peeking out before she recognized the figure stepping into her bedroom. Sighing, Caroline lolled her head in his direction, liking the way his gaze moved slowly along her exposed skin: tops of her breasts, knees, the curve of her shoulders and neck. Not that the scattered petals along the water hid much beneath._

_“You've been asking dangerous questions, love.”_

_Caroline arched both brows, unconcerned as he prowled closer. It'd taken her a decade or so to realize that Klaus her sire was really Klaus Mikaelson, the scourge of her people. Their creator, their nightmare. She'd decided to forgive his amused arrogance at her naivety. Even men older than her by five centuries clearly still suffered from occasionally thinking with the wrong appendage._

_She'd never tell him, of course._

_“Only questions that I already know the answer too,” Caroline replied simply. His eyes flashed as he stripped his over coat, the thin undershirt doing little to hide the taut muscles beneath. For a moment, she wondered if he planned to join her, but instead of removing the shirt, he rolled up the sleeves._

_She wondered at the pang of disappointment._

_“And what,” he asked with deliberate casualness. “Do you think you know?”_

_She watched him, making no move to cover herself. The look behind his eyes was sharp, the keen edge of a blade. “Do you plan on killing me, Klaus?”_

_His gaze met hers, tongue swiping across his lips as he considered her question. “Have you given me cause?”_

_She stretched out one foot, toes brushing the edge of the tub. “No. You did ask me to find your doppelganger after all.”_

_He paused, long fingers pausing at the fabric he'd been arranging, head dipping to the side. Slowly, gaze a brand against her skin, he crouched next to the tub. His fingers skimmed the top of the water, lethal intent only contained because he choose it._

_“So I did. Have you found her?”_

_A slow, lazy smile curled her lips. “I found him.”_

_She bit her lip as she watched him go still and watchful, his eyes narrowed as calculation crawled across his face. The flush of arousal surprised her, the knowledge that she'd surprised him heady. The darkening of his gaze told her he'd noticed, eyes dipping beneath the water to trace the curves of her breast._

_“Him?” He rasped, hand slipping beneath the water to toy with her breast. The pad of his fingertip circled her nipple until it had tightened, and then he pinched lightly._

_Caroline shuddered, eyes heavy lidded. “Him. I found a witch. Lovely little girl, so utterly chatty after she orgasmed. It appears there is more than one doppleganger line.”_

_Her knees pressed together, as he cupped her breasts, but his fingers stilled. She considered the silent demand in his eyes, and decided to indulge him. Instead of merely parting her thighs, she draped one leg over the side the tub, settling her arms higher against the edge. He made an appreciative noise at the display of her body, and her lashes lowered as she traced the hard ridge of his erection with her eyes._

_His smile was a tiny, wicked thing, firelight playing across dimples as he shifted to her neglected breast. “I assume you verified her information?”_

_“Of course,” she murmured as his fingers stroked the curve of her breast lightly. Her breath caught as he trailed slow fingertips down her sternum, and she held her hips still carefully. There was something about his lips, his jaw, that told her he'd not indulge her demands. “He's fairly handsome, for a human. A little milking girl who was unexpectedly crushed beneath her cows first assured me that he was the spitting image of his great-grandfather, and that witches bargained for his blood.”_

_“And did you seduce her as well?” Klaus asked in a thoughtful voice. She blinked the gaze from her eyes, stomach going taut at the darkness in his eyes._

_“If I did?”_

_A deepening of his smile, hand leaving the water. The steam from the bath brought a flush to his cheeks, and his lips were damp from his tongue. She wanted to bite them._

_“Show me.”_

_She scraped her teeth against her lip. “Why? Do you expect to use the knowledge?”_

_He chuckled, teeth gleaming. “Should I not?”_

_She couldn't deny that she was curious about how he'd feel, taste. That the draw between them grew more potent each year. Instead, she glanced at his straining erection, trying not to pant as her release started to build. “Perhaps you should return the favor.”_

_A tilt of his lips, and his dry hand freed his cock. “Do you like to watch?”_

_She smiled, monster crawling into her eyes. “Yes.”_

_“It is a pity we do not have more time,” Klaus mused as clever fingers made quick work of his breeches, cock springing free. “That mirror of yours has several possibilities.”_

_Caroline smiled as she settled back, widening her thighs as she able. Her next exhale turned shaky as he gripped his shaft, fingers lingering in pleasurable pain as she held off her orgasm. Her voice was husky as she cupped her breasts, temporarily ignoring her throbbing clit. “Of course it does. It's why I had it installed.”_

_His fingers flexed, a quick spasm of muscle that said her words had landed._

_“As for the milk-girl, well, I made sure she had such a lovely orgasm before she died.”_

_His cock twitched, and she shifted restlessly in the water. It was the best kind of pleasure, watching the firm glides of his hand as he stroked him, her body throbbing. His thumb ran roughly across the head of his cock and his chest rumbled, flush darkening above his beard._

_“Did she come before or after you bit her?”_

_She smiled in delight at his question, the roughness of his voice. Her fingertips dipped low and her her body jerked, breasts bobbing in the water as she pinched her clit the way he'd toyed with her nipple. Her moan was loud, leg shifting loudly in the water._

_“During,” she finally managed, heartbeat loud in her chest. “All that pleasure tangled up with a bite of pain, a quick flush of fear. It's delicious.”_

_He made a satisfied noise, the creep of black veins beneath his eyes a tell that his control was as frayed as her own. It was a painful tease, touching herself so achingly slow as she watched his pleasure build, the tautness of his muscles, the hitched breathing. She couldn't hold in her own little whines, her soft gasps. The movements against her clit turned shaky, less precise, and her toes curled into the smooth tub as the water lapped at her thigh._

_“So lovely,” Klaus growled. His hand reached for hers, fingers curled tightly around her palm as he brought her wrist to his mouth. The unexpected sting of fangs tipped her over, and her fingers pressed tightly against her pulsing center._

_When she opened her eyes, his fingers were slick with his release, eyes dark and greedy. “I wonder how you taste.”_

_She offered the fingers that had dipped inside her, knowing the smell, the taste would linger even through the bath water. He sucked them clean, gaze anything but sated. Her thighs twitched, and she reached down and every so lightly touched her clit._

_“Why don't you join me?” She questioned,curious and breathless from the way he watched her._

_He made a low sound of disappointment. “Would you like that love? We'd likely break your tub, and I find I'm quite fond of it.”_

_A twitch of pleasure, and she glared as he caught her wandering fingers. A hot kiss, tongue stroking against the slickness. “I wasn't subtle when I came for you, Caroline.”_

_Her gaze dipped to the half-mast of his cock. “I'd say not.”_

_A hint of a smile on his lips, but he released her and stood. She sighed and sat up, tiny curls clinging to her neck. “What did you do?”_

_“I made a mess,” Klaus said with a shrug. “It wouldn't matter. Word will spread soon enough that I've broken my curse, and you need to be elsewhere.”_

_“I can hold my own,” she dismissed,stepping out the water and reaching for her robe. When she glanced back, she nearly smiled at the tightness of his jaw, the harsh line of those lips she fantasizes about. “I thought the curse a ruse?_

_“So beautifully clever,” he murmured, eyes hooded. “I do not need you to be bait any longer, Caroline. Not against my family.”_

_She tilted her head, weighed his words. Something had clearly shifted between them. This was a warning. Tightening her belt, she stepped closer to the rigid line of him, brazenly traced the shape of his mouth. “You're worried about me.”_

_His eyes flared, shining red, and for a moment he looked murderous. She smiled and dropped her hand. “I suppose it is time to visit my estate in Italy, then. Your doppelganger's name is Saul. There is a letter on my desk with the details you'll need to find him. If you need a witch, bring your own. Recently there was a series of accidents in the region.”_

_His fingers fisted in her hair and bent her head black, exposing the line of her throat. Sharp teeth grazed her neck, blood beading on her skin. She moan at the hot stroke of his tongue, and her early arousal returned with a vengeance. “I look forward to seeing just how clever you are with my tongue between your thighs.”_

_She shuddered, lip caught tightly between her teeth as she held in a moan. “Perhaps you'd better enjoy your cock between my lips.”_

_He laughed softly and brushed a gentle kiss against her skin. “Ah, such sweet torture, I'm sure, but the only prey in our bed will be you, sweetheart.”_

_Her heart rabbeted in her throat and he let out another darkly amused chuckle. A moment later, the room was empty, her skin drawn tight and too sensitive. Dropping her robe, she staggered back to her bed and slipped her fingers back between her thighs, knowing it wouldn't satisfy her tonight._

Half a decade later, and Klaus Mikaelson was hosting a ball.

A vampire ball.

To her delight, anticipation prickled across her skin. It had been years since Caroline had felt this flutter in her stomach, a sense of impending change. Lips curling, she reached for the little bell to summon her maid. She’d luggage to pack. She looked forward to returning home to see just how many promises Klaus intended to keep.

 


End file.
